


Strangers On A Train

by LadybugsFanfics



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Sweet, This is really cute, but i do love it, it hurt my tooth writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugsFanfics/pseuds/LadybugsFanfics
Summary: “we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine” -prompt source
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston & Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/You
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This whole series is sweet and cute and i really hope you like it

Every bone in your body aches. Your head drums rhythmically, signaling that its battery is almost dead. Your eyelids threaten to shut, you feel the want to close them. 

But you can’t, not yet. Not before you get home, and that is one tube ride away. You walk on, the wagon packed with people and one holy seat free. You look around to check if anyone else standing noticed and your eyes lock with a tall male. Both your eyes flicker between the seat and each other. 

Your feet move before you tell them to, going against the ache in your body, but you want that seat. The male moves at the same time, longer legs making him reach the seat the instant you’re about to sit down. He grabs your wrist, halting your steps, sits down and pulls you down on his lap. 

“Seat’s mine,” he whispers in your ear. His voice is deep, soothing really, making you even drowsier than before. 

You sigh and lean back, your head fitting perfectly on his shoulder. “Too bad, your lap is mine.” The sentence ends with a yawn and your eyes close, missing the smile on the male’s face. 

His beard graces your cheek and you peek an eye open to look at him. You hadn’t really looked when your gazes met earlier, too preoccupied with exhaustion and just getting to the seat to actually look at him, but the little peek you get of him now, it isn’t bad. 

The male’s hair is slicked back, tucked behind his ears. Its curly and ginger, and it matches his beard. Blue-green eyes look at you, and he has a small smile playing on his lips. His hand is firm around your waist, keeping you in place when the tube halts to a stop, and when it starts back up again. 

“I’m Y/N,” you whisper. Even your voice sounds tired. 

His smile grows. “I’m Tom,” he whispers back. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Since you’re soft, I’ll say nice to meet you, too, but honestly, it wasn’t a few minutes ago.” 

He laughs. His chest rumbles. You can feel it in your back. “Is your stop far?” he asks. 

You shake your head, which is hard with his face in the way. “It’s not the next, but the one after.” 

“You can close your eyes again, I’ll wake you when it’s time,” he says. 

When a stranger on the tube says that, you should be alert and maybe not listen, but your eyes fall close as he speaks. You don’t fall asleep, but even the small relaxation you get from not thinking is more than you could have asked for. 

He shakes you awake when the tube halts to a stop moments later. You open your eyes and see the doors open. “Thanks,” you say and get up. 

You flash him a smile as you get your purse up on your shoulder. 

“No problem,” he says and returns the smile. 

You walk away more relaxed then when you first got on the tube, which is a rare feeling. 

The trip home is refreshing. Five minutes with wind waking you up, not much but enough to actually get you home. As you look around your purse for your keys, you find a small piece of paper. You get in first, and unfold it as you take off your shoes. It’s a note with a phone number. Underneath, it says ‘ _call me_ ’ and a signed name you recognize. A smile forms on your lips as you pick up your phone and save it. 

You’ll call, but first, a good night’s sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Your phone vibrates where it lies next to you on the couch, carelessly thrown when you got home. It’s a text, or more a reply to the smiley you sent that morning to let the stranger on the tube know you got his note. 

It bubbles lightly in your stomach and a smile grows on your lips. However, not sure how to reply, you put it back down and let your attention follow to where it had been. The TV plays an episode of The Big Bang Theory. You didn’t really follow it when it first came on, but now, your mind travels to another place entirely. 

Last night’s tube ride had, after all, been very different from the usual. But it had been nice, _way too_ nice. The disappointment in not seeing him on the tube ride home today is still at the bottom of your gut. There’s just something about him, something about the way he held onto you, made you feel safe. It’s unlike anything you have ever felt before. 

Your phone starts ringing, the vibration affecting the couch and making an annoying sound that scares you enough to jump. You take it up and see the name flash. _Stranger From The Tube_

Something stirs in your gut as you stare at the screen. The smile you had grows wider, and you shake your head before you slide it and answer. You carefully put the phone to your ear, and say a small ‘hi’. 

“ _Hi_ ,” comes from the other line. A voice as soothing as when you first heard it. “ _It’s Tom_ ,” he adds. 

You chuckle. “I saw that.” You bite down on your lip, trying to keep from saying something stupid. “Why did you call?” 

He lets out a sigh, a huff more like it, with a small ‘hehe’ laugh. “ _I’m not sure, to be honest._ ” The line goes quiet. You can hear his breathing on the other side, and just that has the hairs on your neck stand. “ _I guess I couldn’t… I couldn’t wait to talk to you._ ”

“Yeah,” you say, “we didn’t really get to talk before.”

“ _Not with you half asleep on my shoulder, no_ ,” he says and chuckles. “ _Do you maybe want to go out for a drink? Tomorrow night?_ ”

Your words get stuck in your throat. How do you say yes without sounding like you couldn’t wait? Without feeling like you sound desperate (to be honest, you are kind of touch starved)?

“ _Or does that not work?_ ” His voice sounds smaller, insecure. 

“No, no, no,” you hurry, “it works great.” A mental reprimand to not use too long to answer, flies through your head. “I… I was just thinking, uh, that the night is…” You purse your lips. “… still young.”

You pinch your eyes shut. Your heartbeat loud in your ears and your breathing gone because, _god you just proposed that_ , and you don’t know if you can breathe before you hear his answer. 

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, “ _sound great. Meet at your tube stop in an hour?_ ” 

You nod furiously, biting your lips to keep from squealing. Only to realize this is a phone conversation and he can’t see you. You take a deep breath. “Yeah, that sound lovely. See you in an hour?”

“ _See you in an hour_.” The line clicks and the conversation is over. 

If he could see you now, the big smile on your face and knew how hot you felt, he would cancel. You’re sure of it, but instead of pondering whether or not he actually likes you, you rush out of the couch, turn off the TV and get to the bathroom. 

Before going out, there are some things that need to be done. 

_Shower_. You strip out of your clothes and take a quick shower. Every bit of you is cleaned, and despite knowing time is short, you still take the time to shave. You’re not even contemplating not doing so. 

_Make-up._ Most of the time, make-up isn’t that important. Some mascara goes a long way, and you don’t use much more now either. You use some eyeshadow, a natural matte nude palette that blends in with your skin tone. You pair it with some mascara and eyeliner, making your eyes pop. And as a final touch, you find your favorite red lipstick and apply it. Happy with how you look, you move on to the next step. 

_Clothes_. What the hell are you supposed to wear? The make-up alone is much, but also kind of natural and toned down. How do you pair that with something cute, yet showing you want to get to know this guy? In the end, you pick a black button down dress that ties around the waist, and even though it fits rather loosely, shows off your figure. You’d recently bought it as something casual you could wear to a birthday party, and this is the first time you get to use it. Studying yourself in the long mirror in your bedroom, you have no problem thinking you look cute. 

_Shoes_. The dress being casual, and the knowing that’ll you’ll walk and probably stand, calls for something else than high heels. So, going rather tomboy-ish, you pair it with a pair of flat, black sneakers that match the dress. The soles are white and gives some color to the otherwise black outfit. 

_Hair._ And the best for last, you style your hair. You let it fall naturally, spray it to get some style in it, and when you’re happy with the look, you smile at yourself in the mirror. 

Seeing the clock, you have about two minutes before the hour is up. You search around your apartment for a little purse to go with the outfit, trying desperately to find something small yet able to have a phone, keys and wallet. It takes two minutes, but you finally find a black one that you’re happy with. One last look in the mirror, you smile happily and get out. 

It’s fortunate it takes about five minutes to walk, because if it took more, you’d be a lot more late than you want to. Five minutes is within reasonable time, especially for a spontaneous …date? 

You get to the tube station and look around. The man you’re meeting stands off to the side of the entrance. Seeing him, you get even happier with what you picked out. He wears a pair of black jeans, tucked in is black shirt that clings to his body and the arms are rolled up to his elbows, and a jacket slung over his arm. You hadn’t even thought of taking with you a jacket. Maybe if you get cold, he’ll let you borrow his. 

With light, nervous steps you walk towards him. A nervous purse of your lips as you stop and say hi. He smiles, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s eyes study you from top to toe. It lingers a little on your lips, his tongue just out for a second, before he finds your eyes. Every part of your body feels like it’s on fire. 

“Hi,” he breathes. “You look… wonderful.”

Your gut churns and you resist the urge to bite your lips. “Thanks,” you say. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

His smile widens, and he offers his arm. “Shall we walk?” 

You nod, and take the arm he offers. The touch of his skin against yours is pleasant, a slight burn that traces its way up to your neck and down your spine. The chill air helps, as you would rather not start to sweat. Yet, at least. 

The two of you walk in silence, steering into the tube and getting ready to fine one that gets you to the city centre. In little time, you step off and walk into the city night. You’ve let go of Tom’s arm, but you still walk close. Every once in a while, your hands brush and a shot of electricity courses through you. 

“Where would you like to go?” asks Tom. He casts a glance your way. 

You tilt your head up to glance at him, and catching his stare, you divert it back down and purse your lips. Why is your heart beating so fast? “Uhh, I don’t… I don’t have any…”

“Any preference?” he asks. 

You nod, a blush creeping its way into your cheeks. The heat feels like too much, especially mixed with the constant heat of your skin whenever you accidentally touch. 

He smiles and lets out a small laugh. “What about…” He looks around and his eyes land on a place. “…there?” A long finger points at it. 

“Sound nice,” you reply. 

–

_11.38 PM_

“No way, really?”

“Yeah, really. I don’t know why, but he did that.”

“Oh, but you did that other thing, right?”

“Shh, we don’t talk about that.”

“Of course we don’t. You wouldn’t do anything stupid, would you?”

“Fuck off.”

–

_12.52 AM_

“A hat? She got upset for a hat?”

“Oh, yeah, I can’t say why, but the hat meant something.”

“The hat meant something. What did it mean? That it was supposed to be on her head?”

 _Laughter._ “No, apparently, it meant to be in the sea.”

–

_02.23 AM_

“What? You don’t want to dance?”

“No, that’s not really my thing.”

“What is your thing?”

“Talking. Getting to know someone. Laughing.”

“Those are some great things.”

“Yeah, it’s that and being awkward.”

_Laughter._

“You’re not awkward.”

“Oh, sure, because I know how to speak. Yeah.”

“You haven’t been awkward the times I’ve met you.”

“You met me exhausted on a tube where I literally sat on you, and today, where I’ve gotten alcohol.”

“There was no alcohol for four hours ago.”

“No, but there was no conversation either.”

“That’s not a criteria for something to not be awkward.”

“Well, I am, deal with it.”

“Now, what you do have is attitude. Not in a bad way.”

–

_04.12 AM_

You fiddle with the keys for a moment before the apartment becomes unlocked. Inside, you take off your shoes and lay down your little purse on your coffee table. Tom follows right behind, taking off his shoes and hanging his jacket on the coat stand. 

“You want something to drink?” you ask and take a wine bottle out of the fridge. Before he’s even answered, you set down two glasses on the counter. 

Tom comes into the kitchen. He leans against the counter, “that would be lovely.” His gaze travels over you as you pour the glasses, and you shiver at the feeling. As with the whole night, your body responds to how he acts, how he speaks, and you love every minute of it. 

“Here,” you say and hand him one of the glasses. He takes it and your fingers graze, sending your heart into overdrive and setting your skin on fire. 

You move to the living room, and you sit down on the couch, tucking your feet underneath you―making sure your dress covers you and doesn’t show anything you don’t want shown. Tom sits down close by, his knee touches yours. Neither of you pull away from the touch. 

“What were we talking about again?” you ask him. 

He chuckles lightly. “About my work, I think.” 

You nod. “Yeah. An actor and a pretty famous one, too.” Something flickers in his eyes, but you don’t catch what it is. “How is that?”

“Exciting. Tiring. And every bit as fun as when I started out.” Tom smiles, it grows fond as he talks. Fonder and fonder as he retells stories, and talk about the friends he’s made. You listen intently as he speaks. Eyes flicker between his lips and his blue-green eyes that burn with a passion. 

The night continues. You talk about everything, about nothing. Stories from your childhood, stories from now. Those little details. Those small things that mean something. 

And suddenly, the night is over. 

The clock reads eight AM. Tom chuckles at it and stands up. You follow him to the door, lean against the wall as he puts on his shoes and grabs his jacket. 

“I had a great time.” He balances back and forth on his feet and puts his hands in his pockets as you stop leaning, a smile on his face that you return without hesitation. 

“Yeah, me too.” You bite your lip and look down on the floor, on your feet. You glance back up at him. “We should do it again sometime.”

He nods. “We should.”

Neither of you say anything. He moves to the door and turns the lock. Tom looks back at you and you smile at him. Your gazes lock. His flicker down to your lips, his tongue takes a quick trip out. You smile, wanting him to take that step. 

“Bye,” he says and opens the door. 

You move to close it as he walks out. “Bye,” you say. Your heart pounds in your chest, nervousness courses through your veins and hope keeps you from uttering more words (or sounds) than you want.

He lingers in the doorway. You’re closer now, closer than the moment before. Your heartbeat pulses inside your head, your throat feels tight. _Just lean in, it’s not that hard_. But you don’t move. 

Neither does he. Instead you stare at each other, both lick your lips. 

“You have my number,” you say, and tiptoe up to kiss his cheek. 

He nods. “I do.” And with a smile, he walks away. 

You look after him. Your pounding heart not slowing down, and your brain telling you to run after and kiss him. On the lips. But you don’t. You watch as he turns smaller, and you feel the butterflies in your gut. And you know, with a hundred percent certainty, that you’ve met the love of your life. 


	3. Chapter 3

The mix of a buzz from something vibrating against a table and the blare from your annoying alarm wakes you from what had been a deep slumber. Grudgingly, you throw your arm out from under the duvet and smack your phone. This does not have the result you wanted, and you fumble a minute before the sounds fade. 

With a sigh, you turn around and keep huggin your cover, knowing you have about five minutes until the next alarm goes off. Sleep doesn’t come during those five minutes (to be honest, it’s rare when it does), but you still need them to know you have to wake up. 

Your thoughts try to wander back to the dream you had, which was a very nice one where the constant pain in your stomach turned into fireworks because _finally_ something happened. Instead, you have to wake up to a reality where that isn’t the case. 

And the alarm goes off again. You contemplate snoozing it, just this one time, but you know how that will turn out, so you slide it off. It takes a couple of minutes before you actually move. Cold seeps up your legs as your bare feet hit the floor and you instantly regret the decision of waking up. 

Though it isn’t exactly as if you have a choice. 

What you did have a choice in was not to stay up late the past two weeks because you kept talking to Tom. The man himself kept saying he should turn in, and that you should do the same, but neither of you hung up. And the night before had been just as late as the other nights. 

Yet, you drag yourself to the bathroom and do your daily morning routine. With that done, you make your way to the kitchen and make breakfast. Something light (a sandwich), and while you’re at it, you make one for lunch, too. 

It’s only as you’re on your way out you check your phone. Nothing really exciting on the first few notifications. And then, one that has your heart skip a beat and a smile stretch out across your face. 

**Tom:** _Good morning :) I’m taking a plane ride today so I’m not sure if I can entertain you for lunch. - twh_

Something about the way he texts has you smile even brighter. 

**You:** _That’s okay, don’t worry about it. Text me when you land??_

You put your phone in your pocket as you lock the door and start your little journey to the tube station. The chill morning air greets you, and you take a deep breath. The day already feels like it’ll be a good one. 

And the reply you get from Tom only has your heart beat faster. 

**Tom:** _Of course, did you really believe I wouldn’t?_ _\- twh_

You grin as you type in a reply. 

**You:** _No, but I need reassurance_

**Tom:** _I guess that makes sense. Plane ride doesn’t depart until 10, you have time to talk before then? - twh_

**You:** _I can probably make time ;)_

**Tom:** _I’m holding you to that. Tell me when you can. - twh_

**You:** _:)_

_—_

In the end, the good day you had pictured, turns out not so good. Not only could you not make time to talk to Tom, the lunch break you had pictured―an hour in a cafe with a good book―didn’t happen either because you ended up not taking one. 

There was a constant demand of your attention during the whole workday. You missed the texts that came in at one point, and when you finally sprawl out on your couch from exhaustion, your phone blares to life. 

You read the called ID as that of ‘that one coworker you wish would stop calling this late’. Literally, that’s the caller ID. Instead of answering, because you know you’ll sound like a bitch if you do, you send one of those pre-written texts about not being able to answer. 

Having your phone in your hand, and being certain Tom’s landed, you check your texts. True enough, there is one there. _Five hours ago_. 

**Tom:** _Just landed, are you free now? - twh_

You groan. 

**You:** _I only saw this now, I’m so sorry. I can talk now if you want to?_

Seeing as the man is rather busy most of the time, you don’t expect an answer. But hearing your phone pling, your heart pounds. 

**Tom:** _That’s okay, darling. I’m free to talk. :) - twh_

Seeing that, you press the call button at the top of the messaging board. It takes little time before it goes through and you hear Tom’s soothing, velvet voice through the speaker of your phone. 

“ _Hi_ ,” he says.

Just that has you breathless. “Hi,” you reply, some of the exhaustion falling away. “How was the plane ride?”

“ _It was okay. The same as any other plane ride_ ,” he says, though you notice a slight tiredness to his voice. “ _How was your day?_ ”

The sigh that comes with the question seems to be answer enough, because he laughs and asks, “ _that bad, huh?_ ”

“Yeah.” You bring your hand to your forehead and rub your temples. “Barely had a lunch break, actually.” 

“ _I’m sorry. That doesn’t sound good. Have you eaten dinner yet?_ ” he asks. 

“No. I came home and slumped on the couch.” You gaze towards the kitchen. “Food does sound good, though.”

Tom laughs. “ _Order yourself some takeout, you deserve it._ ”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t wanna talk to anyone, or, I don’t wanna talk to anyone but you.” The admittance has your gut churn and you’re glad Tom can’t see how your face flushes bright pink. 

Another chuckle. “ _I’ll order for you, just tell me what you want._ ”

The gesture in itself sounds nice, nothing to it. But for you, it means a lot. So far, he know phone calls aren’t really your thing, but you have only mentioned that once. The fact that he remembers and that he offers to do it for you, it makes a warm feeling spread through you.

Nonetheless, you are quite stubborn. “Uhh, no, I can do it.”

“ _Don’t worry about it. What do you want?_ ” 

Too exhausted to argue, you tell him. Having had cravings for chinese food, more specifically; fried noodles with chicken, bothering you all day, so you tell him exactly that. You can hear his smile through the phone as he asks if there’s anything else you want. 

“Chocolate,” you reply. “And some snacks, not sure what. Biscuits sounds nice, so does crisps. Uhh, what else? Honestly, if you could raid the entire snack section at some store that would be more than enough for me.”

He chuckles. “ _Sure, I’ll order now, okay? Call you when I’m done?_ ”

You nod and say ‘yes’ at the same time, and the line breaks cut as you both say a quick ‘bye’.

With no need to hold your phone to your ear, your hands falls limp to your side. It connects with the couch in a small double thump as it bounces on first impact. You close your eyes and let out a loud sigh, which eases some of the fatigue from your body. 

Unfortunately, no matter how much you want to sit on the couch and do nothing, you feel a little restless. You stand up on tired feet and let them lead you to the kitchen. Whilst you walk, you pull back your hair into a bun because it became annoying fast. 

Your feet stop in the doorway into the kitchen, and you lean against the frame. Your eyes skim the white cupboards as if you can see through the doors to know what’s in them. Knowing there’s nothing you really want, you walk back to the living room, grab your phone and make for your bedroom. 

Never before has taking off tight fitting jeans felt so good. You slip into a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt. Your bra quickly ends up in the laundry basket and just the feeling of not wearing it is enough to make you relax even more. 

And then your phone buzzes where it lies on your bed. You throw yourself down and grab it. One glance has you see it’s Tom and you answer without hesitation. 

“Hi,” you say, sounding more chipper than when you’d talked to him just a few minutes earlier. 

“ _You sound… not as tired?_ ” You can picture the frown, though slight smile, that covers his face. “ _Did something happen?_ ”

You shake your head. “No, I changed clothes. Baggy all the way.” 

He laughs. “ _Ahh, I see. Feels good, doesn’t it?_ ” 

“Really good.” You let the smile creep onto your lips. “When’s the food getting here?”

“ _Impatient much?_ ” He asks. “ _It’ll be there in about fifteen minutes_.”

“That is too long.”

“ _Too long? For what? You to not be hungry anymore?_ ”

“No, too long for me to be without food. I seriously would die for, I don’t know, just a tiny bite of something as bland as cauliflower now. Really.”

A soft laugh fills the line. “ _I guess you’ll have to gain some patience_.”

You roll your eyes. “Where can I get that? Can I borrow some from you?”

“ _I’m sorry to say that that is, in fact, not possible. I have only so much patience and it’s reserved to deal with you._ ”

You fake a shocked gasp, which only has him laugh. The laugh tugs at your heart, and you try to stop your breath from catching because the sound takes you aback, but by how he stops laughing and just breathes, you know he noticed. 

As neither of you talk, you center in on just listening to him. His breathing is steady, yet he sounds a little bit ragged. In the background, you can hear a small sound of chatter and cars. He’s probably out for a walk, or maybe he’s eating dinner late, too. 

“Hey, something I’ve forgotten to ask,” you say, “how’s Bobby been? You’ve been gone for a few days now.”

“ _Bobby’s fine. He’s been having the time of his life at my mother’s._ ” The fondness in his voice has the smile on your face grow wide. 

“Aww, why haven’t I met him yet?” you ask, and pout even though Tom can’t see it. “I find that highly unfair.”

“ _Maybe sometime in the coming week?_ ” 

You nod. “That sounds perfect.”

And the next thing you’re going to say is interrupted by the sound of a car outside your apartment building. “I think the food’s here.” You get up from the bed and move towards your apartment door. On the line, Tom’s voice is muffled as he speaks to someone else. To not have the take-out guy wait for you to open your door and find everything, you find your card and open the apartment door beforehand. 

However, the sight that meets you is not the one you expected. 

Tom walks toward your door, three bags in hand. Two are grocery-store bags and the third is a take-out bag. The smile that comes on your face from seeing him doesn’t want to die down. Fully clad in a _fucking_ suit that has him look good in more ways than one, holding bags of food and with a smile on his face that makes his glasses scrunch up his noise, Tom is the miracle you need on a bad day. 

Heat flows through your veins. Your lungs feel tight, _ache_ but such a _good_ ache that you can only shake your head in disbelief. The small laugh, the ‘ehehehe’ he has in every conversation, echo from your phone as he comes closer. 

“Hi,” he says, and the cheeky, innocent smiles that accompanies has your heart flip. 

And you want to say hi back, it’s just you don’t know words. Your shuts down. All you can do is stare at him and hit the ‘end-call’ button on your phone. At least, your brain wires up as you’re about to lose it to the ground, and you slip it into the pocket of your pants. 

Tom walks past you with a shake of his head and makes it into your kitchen, taking off his shoes on the way. He dumps the bags on the counter and starts to unload them as you close the door and lock it. Still in shock, you slowly move to the kitchen. 

With an amused glance your way, he finds plates and cutlery. “Here you go,” he says and hands you a fully prepared meal that smells delicious and has your stomach make a low growl. Tom laughs at that and pulls out a chair at your dining table for you to sit. 

“Ho―” You cut yourself off. “Why―what?”

He presses his lips together, probably trying not to laugh at your attempt to speak. But he doesn’t say anything as he readies another plate with food. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

Tom chuckles. 

“When did you come back here?” you ask, though you figure that’s a rather stupid question as you’ve said it. “Or more, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked where I was going. I thought it was nice with a surprise.” He shrugs. _Shrugs._ The audacity. 

“I… You fucking asshole.” 

He purses his lips with another innocent smile. “I do have one of those yes, but I’m not sure about the fucking part.” 

Something mixed with shock and annoyance leaves your lips. “I don’t think I can reply to that,” you say. “What? Who do you think you are?”

Tom shrugs. “Someone trying to lighten the mood.” He takes a bite of his food, leaving the implication of what more he wants to say, up for you to decipher. 

“Lighten the mood? You did that alone with a phone call, this is much worse. This is literally just making my day, on every level.”

He smiles. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

You roll your eyes. “Assistance my ass, you just love getting attention for doing nice stuff, I’m sure of it.”

He doesn’t say anything. Though those blue-green eyes say enough with the look he sends you. It’s so genuine, so relaxed that it eases you out of your stupor of seeing him even more, and you manage to actually bite into your food. 

Water fills your mouth at the taste. It lingers on your tongue as you swallow and you continue to stuff your mouth with food. Not once, during the meal, is your mouth food free. You don’t even take something to drink during it, and the worst part of it all; 

Tom _fucking_ Hiddleston―the man you’ve been crushing on for two weeks―is sitting across from you with this stupid grin on his face watching you eat like the disater case you are. And you _don’t care._ Which is messed up because you used to care about those things like crazy. 

But with Tom you’ve managed to create an environment where you don’t care. He doesn’t judge you, and you aren’t afraid of him thinking you’re disgusting or weird or anything that has self doubt cloud your mind, because there’s something about him that has you relax and just feel free to be yourself. 

Which is the reason you love spending time with him. Just talking on the phone, or being in his presence, or just texting. Anything that has to do with him, and your whole body eases because he just oozes self-confidence and humbleness. Something tells you he’s not afraid to make a fool of himself, and that you don’t have to be afraid, so you’re not. 

All those things, that’s what makes your heart pound. Makes your hands clammy. Has your shirt cling to your back because _god, it’s a little hot in here_. Have you become aware that you aren’t wearing a bra and that you know that’s noticeable through your shirt. It’s what makes your gut churn, makes fireworks blow up, and the reason you feel like the places where he touches you during a hug or just randomly because it’s something he does, feel like they’re on fire and that your skin is burning away. 

And you still don’t understand how any of those feelings can be _good_. Yet, they are. They are the best thing that’s ever happened, because that idea of needing a family, a boyfriend, marriage, and that it’s becoming too late, it’s being pushed on you as you near forty. And no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t care, you do. The thought of Tom being that rescue, well it just has all those feelings start anew. 

“Y/N?” 

You snap out of your thoughts. Tom’s light but quizzical smile has you cock an eyebrow at him. His smile turns amused. “Still tired? Or something else?”

“Yeah,” you say, because it feels like the best option. 

It has him laugh. “Care to tell?”

You scrunch your nose. “Nah, not really. Would rather hear how your trip was.” 

He smiles at that. “Rather boring,” he says. 

“That’s it?” you ask. “You went out of the country for three days to, uhh you actually never said where, and you don’t have anything to say about it.”

“It was a work trip, what is there to say?” He shrugs. 

“Excuse me, mister it-was-a-work-trip, but you’re a fucking famous actor who does not have a boring job, so please tell me how a trip for you can be boring?” You jokingly glare at him, which prompts a laugh. It tugs at your heart and it takes a double take, because he doesn’t stop laughing. 

The glare you have turns into a smile that grows with each passing second. Your eyes crinkle at the glee he shows. 

“I just,” he says, still laughing, “I don’t understand how you find that so amusing. Playing it, doing the movie is the funnest part, but I’m not currently doing much more than traveling from place to place. It’s enjoyable, but it can’t possibly interest you.” 

You scoff. “Really?” you ask. 

He nods. 

“If you really need to know, _everything_ you do interests me. You could sleep or just sit quiet and brood, and it would interest me.” The words feel good as you say them, but also comes with a bitter taste of ‘shit-i-said-too-much’. 

Tom proves you wrong when his eyes crinkle and he smiles wide at you. Grins, actually. He lifts his glasses back into place, and straightens up. “I don’t believe that.” 

Another scoff comes from you. 

“What about me is it that’s interesting enough for that?”

You take a deep breath and sit up yourself. The fork in your hand clatters to the plate and you take a moment to rub your neck and clear your head. Then you put your elbows on the table, clasp your hands together and lean forward, staring Tom right in the eyes. “There is so much, you’ll have to use that patience of yours as I continue.”

He smiles and laughs slightly, eyes trained on you intently as you open your mouth again. 

“When we first met, I sat on your lap. Or almost _slept_ in your lap, and all you did was be a perfect gentleman who let me ease from some of my exhaustion. And after that, you were so nice when we went out. 

“You’re easy to talk to. There is no judgement, and that’s always been what held me back, still holds me back, with others. But with you, there is nothing that has me be afraid I’m messing up, because you don’t care. It makes you so human it’s hard to remember that you have such a huge fanbase who could list a thousand things about you without a second’s thought to it. 

“Do you have any idea what those little things you do mean? Like today, getting all this because I didn’t feel like getting it myself. And showing up here because you knew I had a bad day and wanted to help? It’s like you’re some kind of guardian angel or something.

“And, and this is the last thing I’ll say because I’m too tired to list everything, you have so many stories and so much information and knowledge. Listening to you is amazing and I could do it forever. Literally, I didn’t know it was possible to be this perfect.”

A blush creeps up Tom’s neck. You can see the red cover the lower part of his face, and he looks down in his lap. “You’re making me blush.” 

You grin at him. “That was the point, if you didn’t get that.”

He rolls his eyes, but the blush and the smile stays on. “You’re too good for me.”

“Nah, pretty sure, according to all those fans of yours, you deserve even better than me.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure most of them say I deserve to be happy.”

You smile. “You do, you know? Whether that’s alone, or with someone, you deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks,” he says. 

You beam at him. “Okay, but what do you say to cleaning up this and watching a movie with all the snacks you bought?” You stand from you chair and take your empty plate. 

He nods, and says, “Sounds great,” as you take his too, and place them by the sink. 

With your back to Tom, and the water turned on to wash the dishes, you let out a content sigh, and let the butterflies fly around. The feeling better than it was before, and the feeling that rushes through you with energy and adrenaline, one you wish to keep feeling. 


	4. Chapter 4

It takes so many rings before he answers that you almost believe it will go to the answerphone. But then you hear his soothing, deep voice tiredly say, “ _Tom Hiddleston, who am I talking to?_ ”

You snort at that, which elcitics a laugh from him. 

“ _Y/N_ ,” he says, voice fond even though the sleepiness still clings to it. “ _It’s two am, why are you calling?_ ” 

“Uhh, I have a slight problem.” You press your lips together, forming a thin, nervous smile as you await his response. 

“ _Problem?_ ” 

You nod. “Uhh, yeah. I’ve been out with friends and had a few drinks,” a little chuckle follows the ‘a few’ because it was probably one too many, “and I have to walk because I missed the last tube and it’s so long and my feet _hurt_ and I’ve walked a little in only socks but it hurts _so much_ and I don’t have much power left on my phone and also I’m a little afraid and like it’s dark and the middle of the night―”

His laugh interrupts your rambling. “ _Give me ten minutes, I’ll pick you up. Where are you?_ ” he asks. 

You look around. “I don’t know.” Even if he can’t see it, you shake your head as you say so, as if acknowledging your own stupidity. “Some buildings are here, and a… I don’t know.”

Tom sighs. “ _Anyway you could find out?_ ” 

“Maybe,” you reply and take your phone away from your ear. You press the speaker button, and move into google maps. By choosing somewhere to go, you get your own position and press it. The ‘share your location’ button is pretty handy right now, and you have only done this once before. You find Tom in your contacts and send it to him. “Done.”

“ _Got it. I’ll be right there_.” 

“Don’t use long. I want to see youuu,” you say, drawing out the ‘you’ in a singsong-y voice. 

He laughs. “ _Don’t worry._ ”

You stick your tongue out and roll your eyes. “I don’t worry. I overthink. There’s a difference.” 

“ _If you say_ ―” 

He cuts off. You look at your phone and notice it’s shutting down. _Great, just great_. That means you have to wait without talking to him. You let out a huff and sit down on the curb, which gives your feet some rest. It feels great actually, to just sit down. 

It does not feel so great when a man walks past, and though he doesn’t really look threatening, there’s something about the look he sends you that has chills creep up your spine. During the next minutes it takes for Tom to arrive, your heart pounds in your chest. The slight tipsiness you’d felt before vanishes, replaced with an anxious feeling of dread. 

_Tom will be here in a second. Tom will be here in a second. Tom will be here in a second._ You repeat it like a mantra in your head, but it doesn’t calm your nerves nearly as much as you would like. 

The car that pulls up to a stop on the other side of the street doesn’t sit well in your gut either. But when Tom gets out of it and his tall frame makes its way across the street and to you, relief floods your system. You stand up, shoes in one hand and smile at him. 

“You got cut off,” he says as he pulls you in for a small hug. You wrap your arms around him, breathing in the fresh scent he brings.

“My phone shut off.” You linger in the hug a few seconds longer than you should, but since he doesn’t pull away you don’t think too hard on it. Though your heart does flip a thousand times, which feels good but also breaks it all at once. 

Tom pulls away eventually, and takes your free hand in his as you walk back to his car. “Why would you believe it a good idea to take off your shoes?” he asks.

“You really think these are good for walking?” You shove the pair of high heels in his face―though not _too_ in his face. It’s a black pair with a thick heel and straps that snakes their way up your legs. It’s not necessarily that they’re uncomfortable, but rather the fact that high heels in general gives for tired feet after awhile. 

“No, I don’t think they are.” He opens the car door for you, letting go of your hand as you sit down. The absence leaves a cold sensation in your fingers―had his touch really been that hot?

You do your best to fasten your seatbelt, but the end won’t connect with the thing it’s supposed to fasten in. Your focus is on that as you hear the car door close as Tom gets in. His laugh rings in your ear as you sigh and give up on the belt. 

“I’ll help,” he says, leaning over and dragging the belt with him. Your breath catches at his closeness. His breathing mixes with yours, the nearness of him having your gut churn and your heart twist in agony because _god he is so close why not just lean over and press your lips to his_ _and_ ―

_Click._

The belt clicks into place and the smell of Tom’s cologne falls away from your nose as he pulls back into his own seat, pulling on his own seatbelt. He starts the car, and you do your best to regain your breathing because _he was so close_. 

It’s a silent ride back to your apartment. All you can think about is how close he was. How dry your throat is. How much your gut hurts as it churns and churns and churns. How you feel cold as his touch isn’t on you. How you wish to press your lips to his. How you wish to press your lips to his neck, his chest, _other places._ How you wish to touch him, let your hands explore his body. 

And all of it has your body heat up, sweat just a little because _god it’s hot confined to this space._

Finally, Tom pulls to a stop in the guest parking outside your apartment. You manage to take off your seatbelt, but you don’t get to open the door as Tom is already on the other side. He smiles as he lends you a hand, which you happily take. The touch burns you, but it’s better than the cold you had before, better than not touching him. 

He helps you all the way up to your apartment, letting you lean most of your weight on him as you walk. Though the few stairs you have to walk up aren’t that promising as you don’t want to put your shoes on at all. 

“I’ll carry you,” offers Tom. 

You shake your head. “No, I can’t… You can’t―” 

But Tom doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and crouches for you to hop onto his back. You do. His arms feel secure under your thighs, the touch creating a tickling feeling where it happens―which you try to ignore but it’s a _good_ feeling.

Your arms wrap around his neck, though you make sure not to choke him. Seeing as he feels so secure, you lay your head down on his back. The little rumble of a laugh it elicits has you smile. 

It’s over too fast. Tom puts you down as he stops by your door. You fiddle with the keys, and hope he doesn’t decide to leave as he’s helped you. After all, he doesn’t have to stay. But everything within you wants him to. The alcohol in your blood might make you a tad bolder than you usually are, and that might just have things go the direction you want it to. 

You open the door and walk in, putting your shoes down with your other shoes. Thankfully, Tom follows you inside, closes the door and takes off his shoes. You try to suppress a smile, but it makes its way across your face despite it. 

“You want something to drink?” you ask, glancing his way. 

“That depends,” he says and leans against the doorway to the kitchen. 

“You can choose wine or water.”

Tom chuckles. “I’ll take a glass of water, thank you.” 

You pull out two glasses, find a bottle you have in the fridge and fill both glasses with water. You hand one of them to Tom and take the other one yourself, taking a sip. Even being cold from standing in the fridge, it isn’t as cold as the absence of Tom’s touch. 

Only moments ago and you already miss it. Maybe there’s something in it when you’re in love; you miss those small things because you only get them during certain moments. And now that that moment is over, you don’t know what to do. 

“How much did you really drink?” asks Tom and sets down his glass on the counter as he leans against it. 

You press your lips together. “Just a few… too many.”

He gives you an amused smile, though he doesn’t comment. Instead, he quietly leans against the counter, ocean eyes smiling as he looks at you. The way they seem to study your face has heat crawl into your cheeks and you press your lips even tighter together. 

“You wanna watch a movie?” you ask.

“It’s still the middle of the night,” he replies, though amusement colors his voice. “I better get home.”

You put down your glass on the counter and walk the few steps over to him. “Please stay,” you say and make the best puppy dog eyes you can. 

Tom shakes his head. “I can’t. I might have a day off tomorrow, but I can’t stay here the whole night.”

Everything in your stomach tells you to tiptoe, tilt your head a tiny bit and press your lips to his. A quick peck, just something to let the hunger, the need to do so, at bay. But you don’t. You look up at him, try to look as innocent as possible. 

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll stay.” He picks up the glass off water, downing it all in one big sip. Your throat goes dry seeing his long neck stretched, seeing his adam’s apple move as he swallows and noting the way his lips fold around the rim of the glass.

_God, you have to get yourself checked, Y/N, this is way out of line._

But then again, hadn’t you been on a date? Not today, but before. And he was so nice, but you can’t believe anyone who’s nice likes you that way. 

“What movie are we watching?” 

You blink up at Tom, who smiles warmly. You swallow, throat and mouth dry. “What would you like to watch?” 

“You asked for a movie, you pick,” he says and you roll your eyes. 

Nevertheless, you pick the movie. You find a romantic one on Netflix, and, both out of boldness from the alcohol and the fact that you are pretty close, you snuggle close to him as the movie plays. 

He drapes his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his chest. His heart beats loudly in your ear, faster than you would expect. Maybe he likes the movie, he probably likes the movie. 

Close to the end, the couple gets back together. The final ‘real’ kiss plays on the screen and you sigh at the sight. Louder than you thought, because Tom stirs, sits up a little and lets you fall down with your head in his lap. His fingers start to play with your hair, and a smile creeps on your lips he gently combs through. 

When the credits start rolling, you turn in his lap so that you face him. His gaze is on you, looking down with a fondness you haven’t seen before. A fondness that has your gut churn. 

All you have to do is lean up and―

You don’t react before he pulls away with a red face. He presses his lips together and his eyes go a little sad by the fact that you had no reaction. His eyes meet yours and even though you can’t see your own face, you know it’s colored in shock. 

He kissed you. His lips were on your lips. He made the move.

And you didn’t kiss back. Nor are you telling him you want to. You just lie there, staring up at him with wide eyes as his face contorts more and more into someone that wants to flee the situation. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I just… I thought perhaps…” 

You shake your head. “Don’t be.” Your voice sounds small in your head, barely there. “Do it again,” you say breathlessly, throat too dry to function. 

He does. This time you notice, and you kiss back. Your arm snake to the back of his head, steadying him as you press your lips against his. It’s not much, it feels a little awkward, and you would want the situation to be a little different. Yet it’s better than anything you could have imagined. Fireworks spark in your gut, heat burns your palm where your hand is in his hair and his hand is on your cheek, and the tingling feeling you have felt many times around him comes back, adding to the pleasure of the kiss. 

All you can think is finally. 

_Finally._


End file.
